


I Dream of You and Call it Mercy

by Siana



Series: Don't Call it Fate [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: But no knife or blood play, Choking - the kinky kind, Dirty Talk, Impact Play, M/M, Some edge play, There's a knife at some point, This wasn't supposed to be as whimiscal as it is, Will there be more corpse love letters?, but oh well, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-15 19:38:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9252860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siana/pseuds/Siana
Summary: Viktor summons and Yuuri follows.It's like this and it is something. But just because it's working, doesn't mean it's working well.





	1. Chapter 1

The ice is cold when there’s no spotlight to warm him. Yuuri can feel the cold creep up his legs, slowly, inexorably. It slows his blood, his breathing, numbs him to more than just the pain of memory.

The cold suits him. It already lives in his heart and his mind.

The music starts and so does Yuuri. Slow at first, the cold still clinging to him like a weight but he shakes it off with the practiced routine of years on ice. He spins and he imagines splinters of ice fly off the tips of his fingers, embedding themselves in the wooden boards that guard him.

Yuuri builds up speed and jumps, spins in the air and lands, the impact a shock that gets lost somewhere in the effortless bend of his knee. Yuuri closes his eyes. Thinks of a place that is not _here_ , but somewhere else. This rink, this town he knows by heart. He’s grown up here, handed over to the owners of one of the onsen to raise as their own. This is where his roots truly lie. He hasn’t been born here, but Hasetsu will never leave him.

He’s somewhere else in his mind. A place that has no structure, no clear definition except for somewhere he _wants_ to be rather than has to. A place he knows exists somewhere. He just has to find it.

Yuuri jumps again but flubs the landing. The ice scrapes on his palms, on his knees and he opens his eyes. A man in a suit is standing at the boards, too close than he should be and it’s more than just the fact Yuuri didn’t notice. This is his home, his _sanctuary,_ the man does not have the right to be here.

Yuuri stands and the cold creeps into his heart once again.

~*~

Katsuki Yuuri looks more like Katsuki Toshiya – the man who raised him – than his actual father. His father is tall and reed-thin, his face is hard and impressed into an eternal scowl. He looks at everything like he looks at Yuuri now – disapproving. Yuuri leans towards chubbiness, if he eats too much, his father looks like he’s never had enough food in his live. He’s all sharp angles and edges down to the tilt of his cold eyes.

There is a flower on the desk in front of Yuuri’s father, cast in crystal and as brilliantly red as freshly spilled blood. A rose, because Viktor is done with being subtle and Yuuri’s heart beats faster at the sight of it.

He does not know why his father insists on handing the invitation out personally. Except he does. It’s a reminder to Yuuri to never forget his place. He’s an errand boy, nothing more, nothing less.

His father slides an envelope on the desk next to the rose and Yuuri picks up both with hands not quite trembling. He bows and leaves without either of them saying a word.

It’s a reminder but it’s also a test.

Yuuri does not mind that he is a tool. Not in this. Not when it doesn’t leave him a choice. There are worse ways to be used.

In the envelope are flight tickets, one for the next day and the return flight the day after. To Hokkaido this time and Yuuri thinks it’s fitting. The only times he truly feels warm is on the ice and in Viktor’s arms.

He has a packed bag ready in expectation of the next invitation. He never knows when the next one comes, but it always comes. His life has taken on a rhythm. The few bright days when he gets summoned and the many dull days in between. Sometimes he wishes he knew when the next one will come. Maybe waiting would be easier then. Counting days that don’t have an end is painful in its own way.

He sleeps well that night for the first time in months.

~*~

There was an address in the envelope and a time too. Yuuri arrives in time as he always does. It’s an empty apartment building opposite an equally abandoned warehouse. Which is to say it only appears like that on the outside. Inside one of the apartments crowds a group of suited individuals – all foreigners – with Viktor at their center. His father would not like this. Strangers feeling so comfortable on Japanese soil. Even as he orders Yuuri to ensure the alliance’s success.

Viktor does not smile when he sees Yuuri. He sits on the only piece of furniture in the room – an old dilapidated sofa – arm leisurely draped over the backrest and one leg thrown over the other, he is the picture of relaxed power.

“There are six of them,” he says to Yuuri in English. “They are attempting to smuggle arms inland.” Viktor’s lips curl into something cruel and Yuuri knows what this means. After Viktor’s show of force on the continent the triads relocated to other territories in an effort to escape the Russian’s influence. One of these territories being Japan, much to his father’s yakuza’s dismay. An inland smuggle route means that they are trading with one of the rival groups. Yuuri’s father may be the most powerful yakuza boss in all of Japan but he is far of having united all of them. And smaller families have sniffed out their chance by allying with the Chinese expats.

Presently, Yuuri nods and stays silent. This is just another role he plays and he plays it well. Viktor directs his men and they circle the warehouse. It falls to Yuuri to take out the watch posts, because he is the fastest and quietest. He gives the signal when the last body falls and for a moment his and Viktor’s eyes meet. Yuuri crouching over a dead body and Viktor standing in the shadows of a dirty alleyway, arm raised and waiting.

Viktor does not quite smile, but Yuuri recognizes the fire in his eyes.

No, he does not have a choice in this, but if he had he doesn’t know if he could stay away. This, as short and rare as it is, is the time when he living feels the way it should.

Viktor’s hand falls and Yuuri follows its call. For once, he doesn’t feel cold while he kills.

~*~

The door in front of him is familiar even though he’s never been here before. But it’s another suite in another high class hotel, an address and room number slipped into his pocket and he’s here, inevitably as though there was ever a doubt that he would be.

And he tells himself that he has no choice in this either, because he’s supposed to cement the alliance and really, if Viktor wants to see him that is the least he can do, isn’t it? It makes this easier, the reminder that this is just a task too, he has a place as long as he is useful.

(It’s a lie. He’s lying to himself, but it’s easier like this. Easier because the consequences are not his own.)

Yuuri knocks and the door opens as it always does, with Viktor right behind it. Viktor smiling and being so obviously happy to see Yuuri, it _hurts_.

“Yuuri,” he says and it’s just his name but it has Yuuri smiling too. This is all he’ll ever have of Viktor, but he wills it to be enough.

“Hello Viktor,” he says and then he’s in Viktor’s arms and finally, finally he can _breathe_ , because he is _home_.

For this night at least, Yuuri doesn’t stop his wishful thoughts. There is an expiration date on his happiness, but for this night and all the other nights they’ve stolen like this, he pretends it hasn’t.

“No welcome kiss?” Viktor asks, even as nuzzles into Yuuri’s neck. “How mean.”

Yuuri smiles and indulges Viktor. It starts out chaste, but it never stays that way long with Viktor. And it’s not as though Yuuri has reasons to complain. Viktor’s hand cradles his neck, his fingers twined into the strands at the back of Yuuri’s head. His breath is warm on Yuuri’s lips and then he doesn’t think for a while, focusing instead on the sensations of the kiss.

Viktor is a good kisser, a fact he proved their first night together as he kissed Yuuri into a breathless, incoherent mess. They did not talk much then, too caught up in the fragility of the moment.

“You’re thinking again,” Viktor murmurs against his lips.

It’s true, as it always is with them. The moments of silence in Yuuri’s mind are short-lived. It always comes back down to memories of what was and fears of what will be. It’s in his nature, he thinks.

“Then make me stop,” he whispers back. A dare and Viktor smiles in response. But it’s Viktor so he hasn’t really stopped smiling since Yuuri walked through the door.

Somehow, he doesn’t remember how they end up in the bedroom, Yuuri’s back against the wall with Viktor’s leg pressed up into his groin. It’s always like that with them. The time spent apart with nigh a word of contact all build up to this irresistible hunger, the need to be as close as possible.

Yuuri pushes off Viktor’s dress shirt. As always, Viktor is wearing only the barest necessities, as if he could not wait to expose his skin to Yuuri.

“You’re impatient today,” Viktor notes, but if anything, he is even more eager than Yuuri to lose his shirt. Yuuri wants to touch, but Viktor catches his hands, kisses the knuckles of each with a gentleness that feeds the hollow ache in Yuuri’s chest. “I want to take it slow.” This is what Viktor is always doing and always Yuuri wants to beg him to stop, to be rough where he otherwise is gentle.

But Yuuri would be lying to say he doesn’t want it. So he lets Viktor guide them to the bed, lets himself be pushed down gently as if he’s something that could still be broken. Viktor kisses the edge of his mouth and then trails kisses down Yuuri’s jaw to his throat, while his hands are working to divest Yuuri of his shirt jacket, tie and then his shirt. He folds them open like he would a flower, slow and with infinite care. He runs a finger along the leather of Yuuri’s holster as though that too were a part of Yuuri that needed to be cherished.

“Viktor, don’t tease,” Yuuri says and he whines, because he is enough of a manipulator to know that Viktor can’t resist him when’s needy. Viktor responds by sucking Yuuri’s nipple into his mouth.

Yuuri jerks, his hand skittering down Viktor’s shoulders until he finds purchase on his hips. It continues like that for a while. Yuuri helpless in the face of Viktor’s dedication, trying desperately to regain control to steer Viktor to somewhere where Yuuri is less vulnerable.

(He’s fooling himself because he’s always vulnerable when it comes to Viktor.)

Viktor eventually lets up, pushing himself up on his arms to loom over Yuuri. His face is flushed and his chest is heaving, a sure sign that he is not as unaffected as he often likes to pretend. He smiles briefly and licks his lips. He bends down for a kiss, but Yuuri stops him with a hand on his chest.

Yuuri himself is flushed too, breathless and he can still feel the touch of Viktor’s breath on his skin. He knows his face is a mess, glasses askew and lips spit slick from where he had bitten on them in a futile effort to regain some control. He can feel the flutter of Viktor’s heartbeat against his palm.

And it’s like this too.

Yuuri pushes and Viktor follows. He flips them around until it’s Viktor on his back and Yuuri on top. He shucks off his shirt and jacket finally, dropping the holster with his guns, keeping only the tie he winds around his fingers. He notes how Viktor tracks the motion, notes how his eyes seem to dilute even further.

There is a luxury in indulgence. But luxury is something Yuuri has never had in his life. He drops the tie off to the side and leans down instead to kiss Viktor.

They’ve just gotten started but Yuuri is already hard and aching. He shifts until his erection is pressed against Viktor’s. Viktor breaks the kiss and groans. He lifts his hips to press against Yuuri and for a moment Yuuri is overwhelmed by the sensation. He’s bent over Viktor, weight resting on his arms and he feels the tight coil of heat built between his legs.

He wants and he is overwhelmed by that too.

He bends for a kiss, but it’s sloppy and then Viktor’s hands are at his belt and Yuuri drops his head onto the pillows at Viktor’s shoulder. Viktor is impatient, almost tearing at the fabric in his effort to free Yuuri.

“Yuuri,” he says and it pulls Yuuri out of the fog of his desire. “Help me.”

And Yuuri does. He sits up enough for Viktor to pull off his pants. And then he helps Viktor with his until they are both finally naked. It’s a revelation. It always is. The two of them like this, exposed and vulnerable. Viktor has a sheath strapped to his upper arm with thin silver blades and Yuuri wears his knives on his thigh.

Yuuri wants to sink into Viktor, his body thrumming with desire and heat. But this moment is something he still cherishes enough to slow down. Viktor’s fingers trail down his stomach, past his groin and down the top of his thigh. He hooks a finger under the strap and slowly undoes the clasp. It’s reverent in a way that takes Yuuri’s breath away. Viktor slides a finger down a knife, teases the skin there a moment later. And then he pulls it off, lets the leather slide over skin like a caress.

Yuuri feels a shudder snake down his spine. It’s intense in a way that so little ever is. His toes feel like curling and his cock leaks eagerly in expectation. He has long since given up to return the favor in kind. He could never match Viktor in sensuality, but he can do something else.

He puts a hand on Viktor’s throat and pushes gently, little more than a coaxing and guides Viktor to lie back down on the bed. He keeps his hand there, lightly, just a hint of pressure and bends to undo Viktor’s knife strap with his teeth.

Viktor gasps and squirms, his throat bobbing into Yuuri’s palm. He expels air in a gasp turned moan and Yuuri doesn’t need to see that Viktor’s cock is leaking too. It’s a sophisticated trick and he leaves more than a bit saliva on Viktor’s knives and skin. But Viktor is trembling now, expelling low moans on every breath.

Yuuri bites the strap and pulls it off, increasing the pressure on his other hand as he does. Viktor chokes out a moan and comes in that moment, spilling all over his stomach.

It’s startling even more so when Yuuri meets Viktor’s eyes and finds the same surprise there. “I didn’t know that was possible,” Yuuri says and smirks.

Viktor just looks at him for a moment, expression still startled but then his eyes grow soft and he looks at Yuuri with such tenderness it _hurts_. Yuuri wants to keep this expression forever, wants to take it with him wherever he goes but all he has is his memory and that could never do Viktor justice.

Viktor huffs a laugh that is a little bit breathless. “That was amazing,” he says and then looks down at the mess he’s made. “We definitely have to try that again.”

Before Yuuri can reply, Viktor’s up and smirking and it’s like he’s flipped a switch except Yuuri knows that this Viktor always lurks under the surface. “Yuuri,” he purrs and it sends shivers down Yuuri’s spine. “It’s time I return the favor, hm?” He’s on his hands and knees, crowding into Yuuri’s space and it sends Yuuri’s heart into overdrive as his body very insistently reminds him that he’s very much still hard. Viktor cradles his chin in his hand, brings their foreheads together. “What do you want Yuuri?”

Yuuri is breathless and words are failing him.

“How about,” Viktor purrs and it’s not fair that he can be like this fresh off an orgasm and still covered in his own cum. “I take you for a change? How about I fuck your pretty little ass? Would you want that? Hm, Yuuri?”

And sometimes it’s like that too.

Filthy and without reserve and Yuuri responds to it with an ease he’d never expected from himself. But it is easy truly, when Viktor looks at him like he means it and Yuuri grabs Viktor’s chin in both his hands and whispers fiercely, “are you just talk or are you going to show me?”

Viktor’s breath falters for the barest of moments, before he regains his momentum. Yuuri has his teeth bared in challenge and Viktor rises to it formidably. He traps Yuuri under his weight and kisses him with newfound intensity.

Yuuri barely manages to catch his breath in between, but Viktor is relentless. He grabs Yuuri’s cock and twists and Yuuri arches of the bed with a moan that is close to a shout. He can feel Viktor’s smirk against his lips and he takes it as a challenge to. He bites at Viktor’s lip, not enough to hurt but hard enough to be felt and he growls another taunt into the space it affords him when Viktor startles.

Viktor’s grip hardens enough to be near painful, but Yuuri bucks up into it, desperate to find release. Viktor lets go then and this time he growls out of frustration, but Viktor merely laughs and it is _filthy_. Viktor flips him with enviable ease. He grabs Yuuri’s hips and lifts them up. There’s some rustling and then the unmistakable sound of a tube being opened.

Yuuri pushes up on his arms, but Viktor’s hand on the small of his back thwarts him. “Don’t even think of it,” Viktor growls and it sends shivers of excitement down Yuuri’s spine. Viktor drapes his body weight over him, pressing him down further. Yuuri drags in breath through lungs that aren’t quite working right. He’s hot all over and his legs are shaking, but then Viktor’s fingers tease at his entrance and all his thoughts stumble over each other.

They’ve done this before. Yuuri is no stranger to being taken, not with Viktor dripping sex appeal when he really wants to, his effect on Yuuri being downright embarrassing if it weren’t for how much Viktor always, always worships his every reaction. Except it’s never been quite like _this_. Viktor’s breath is hot against his neck and his body is a solid weight against Yuuri’s back that grounds him. And even before Viktor enters him Yuuri feels like he’s escaping his skin, like the sensations are too strong for him to contain, but then Viktor does enter a finger and Yuuri almost shakes him off as the sensation wrecks him.

And it’s like this every time too, because no matter how much Yuuri tries, he can never quite remember how it really feels. How utterly and completely lost he is in the sensation, how much power Viktor has over him in this simple act.

Viktor scissors his fingers – when did he get in two? – and Yuuri muffles his scream into the pillows. Viktor’s breath is hot against his ear, he’s saying something but the words are lost in the haze that has taken over his brain. Yuuri gasps for air, his legs are shaking and he knows he could not have held himself up if it weren’t for Viktor’s hand on his hip.

“Yuuri,” Viktor says and bites his ear. Yuuri arches and pants and thinks, _too much_ ¸ but it’s not enough, not even close. He wriggles his ass, pushes back against Viktor’s fingers and it draws into focus, the insistent hardness of Viktor’s cock against his cheek. He’s hard again and really, there is no need to wait, is there?

“Viktor,” Yuuri commands or wants to but it’s breathless and broken off when Viktor rubs his prostate. “Just, fuck me.” It costs him effort to say it, to bring the words out and he knows that if Viktor wanted to, he could have Yuuri begging for it.

He doesn’t though, because a moment later Viktor expels his breath in what could pass for a laugh, breathless and eager and then he retreats. There is the crinkle of plastic and then there are two hands on Yuuri’s cheeks and Viktor says, “you look beautiful like this Yuuri,” and then he’s pushing inside finally, _finally._

Yuuri’s fists grab the sheets and he’s too impatient for slow so he shoves back and Viktor gasps, the breath punched from him when he slides home suddenly.

There is stillness for a moment, Viktor’s hands loose on Yuuri’s hips and the feeling of fullness, but then Viktor moves, before Yuuri needs to prompt and it’s _perfect_.

“Don’t hold back,” Yuuri grounds out. He knows Viktor, knows when given the chance he will always go slow and tender, will worship Yuuri’s body as though it’s something to be revered. It’s an odd dynamic between them; Yuuri on top and in charge and Viktor the one to command him with such simple words of praise.

But that is not something he wants now, he does not think he could stand Viktor’s tenderness in this moment.

“I won’t,” Viktor promises and then his hands tighten on Yuuri’s hips and he starts moving in earnest. “Does it feel good, Yuuri?”

Yuuri can’t respond, has no words left, but the inarticulateness of harsh breaths and lewd moans. It’s enough, because Viktor bends forward, without breaking pace, and nuzzles his lips into Yuuri’s neck. It’s a juxtaposition, the gentleness of the caress against the harsh thrusts.

He’s as hard as he could be and it doesn’t matter that Viktor hasn’t touched him in a while. Yuuri’s fists curl even tighter and he feels the tension rack up higher and higher. He grounds out Viktor’s name, but doesn’t know what he’s asking for. Viktor’s arms snake around his chest and suddenly he’s pulled upwards, flush against Viktor and the angle change drives the breath from his lungs.

And somehow through that Viktor still manages to keep up his relentless pace. Yuuri, bereft of pillows to crush grabs the next logical thing – his cock. He grabs and twists, once, twice, in time with Viktor’s thrusts and then he’s coming, spurting violently as his orgasm courses through him. It’s intense, more so than he’s used to and the aftershocks don’t abate for the entirety it takes Viktor to finish – which is surprisingly short, considering he already came once.

Even when they both are spent, Yuuri can still feel the tremors in his body. Viktor lets them both down less than gently, energy spent, but Yuuri doesn’t mind. He collapses onto the sheets and immediately curls to wrap Viktor into his arms. He feels oddly imbalanced, like skating on thin ice and the closeness of his lover gives him comfort.

Viktor mumbles something incoherent and pulls him into a kiss. It’s languid and lazy and entirely too soon when Viktor pulls away. Viktor fumbles a bit and then leans over to toss the tied off condom into the waste basket. “You’re sticky,” he complains a moment later, only to pull Yuuri into yet another kiss. It’s as if Viktor can’t quite keep his hands of him.

“Shower?” Yuuri suggests and has to suppress a yawn.

Viktor laughs softly, but sits up. He slides a hand down Yuuri’s side to grab his hand. He doesn’t let go the entire way to the shower and even after, when he rubs shampoo into Yuuri’s hair one-handed. Yuuri lets him, even though he doesn’t really need it. It would have been enough to just quickly rinse the cum from his skin. But this is nice and Viktor seems so happy and really, what’s the harm in this?

He knows, of course, where the harm lies. Because Viktor has a place he can return to and he will one day, for good and Yuuri will be left behind. Because what they have now may be nice and mutually benefitting, but he will never be able to give Viktor the only thing that matters in his position – power.

All he has to give is himself and all his assets, his skill, his experience, Viktor has in plenty supply himself. There really is nothing that Yuuri could offer, so he doesn’t ask, doesn’t hope. This will end one day and if he’s lucky enough, Viktor will only take part of his heart with him. If he keeps his distance, it won’t hurt as much.

And it’s like this too. Gentle and tender and everything Yuuri dreams of in his life. He tells himself he doesn’t want or need it.

(It’s a lie.)

~*~

There is a routine to this and Viktor sometimes wishes there weren’t. Yuuri is cuddled close, his head on the crook of Viktor’s arm. The light of dawn has just begun teasing through the curtains. Viktor knows what comes next is inevitable, so he counts the seconds until then and calls them bliss.

Yuuri stirs. He blinks his eyes open and squints at Viktor.

He knows where it will lead, but he can’t stop it. “You are adorable,” he says and bends down to kiss Yuuri’s nose. It’s a moment frozen in time, a moment so perfect and fragile it feels like trembling wings in Viktor’s hands. Maybe today is the day Yuuri will smile at him, still sleepy, nuzzle his face into the crook of Viktor’s arm and go back to sleep.

But Yuuri doesn’t do any of those things. His squint draws into a frown and Viktor can see reality dawn in real time.

“I have to go,” Yuuri says woodenly and sits up.

It’s his own fault, Viktor thinks, for scheduling the return flight on the next day. He knows it gives Yuuri an excuse. But he also knows that Yuuri would leave regardless. Only it would hurt more then.

Little has changed in the two years since their first meeting.

Viktor watches Yuuri go and it is still the most beautiful and heartbreaking thing in his life. Yuuri doesn’t say anything, but he pauses one last time at the door to glance back. There is a faint flush on his cheek and he doesn’t quite meet Viktor’s eyes. But he lingers. And sometimes this bit, this moment’s hesitation is what gets Viktor through his days.

The reminder that despite Yuuri’s insistent attempts to the opposite, there is still something between them worth waiting for.

Viktor gets dressed and prepares his return trip to St. Petersburg. There is no real reason why he – the heir – should go all the way to Japan, but Viktor has yet to let Yakov down and as long as it proves profitable, he may do as he pleases. His effort to root out the triad insurgence in Japan has opened trade routes to and through Japan and while they are all aware that this alliance won’t last forever, for now it provides profit.

And that is really all Yakov cares about. If Viktor has ulterior motives and personal reasons for requesting Yuuri Katsuki’s support, no one’s the wiser for it.

With every mile the plane carries him away, his heart grows heavier. It’s a vulnerability and a weakness. Viktor knows this. Yuuri is his Achilles heel and will one day be his downfall. Yuuri, who comes every time Viktor calls, who gives so much of himself without hesitation, Yuuri who would do anything except commit.

There are moments when Viktor hates him for it. At night, when he can’t sleep and the heaviness in his heart is weighing down on him, he hates Yuuri with a force that almost scares him. Hates him for making this decision for both of them. And too, sometimes he wishes either of them had the strength to walk away for good.

But during the day, when he goes through the motions of his life, he knows that despite the pain he causes, Yuuri is the only thing in his life he truly cares about. Everything else is just dull and meaningless. He’s on top of the world, set to inherit one of the most powerful and richest families in the world – and it means absolutely nothing to him.

He’s centered his life on days he meets with Yuuri and everything else is just limbo.

Somewhere Viktor knows that this can lead only to destruction. But he no longer knows how to disengage. He doesn’t know if he there was ever a point where he could have turned his back. He was lost the moment he climbed onto the piano to dance with Yuuri.

~*~

Yuuri returns home and feels empty, but that is nothing new.

He skates like he always does and for a while he forgets that the world around him is a world he does not want.

~*~

Yakov dies suddenly and surprisingly. A heart attack that no one could predict.

Viktor has been groomed and trained for this. Everything falls into its new place so easily that it would be laughable if Viktor didn’t feel so much like suffocating.

“I can’t wait to see what surprises you have in store for us,” Georgi says after the funeral. He has tear tracks on his face and is unashamed to show them, even as he smiles brightly at his new boss. Georgi has always been like that.

Viktor smiles and pretends this mean something. He pats Georgi on the shoulder and watches his expression light like a candle. He goes to mingle with the others, greet his father’s men and those that will be his.   

It’s pretense, because Viktor knows he has no more surprises left to give.

For the first time in years, Viktor craves the taste of cigarette smoke.

~*~

Yuuri is not the last to know, but when he’s told it’s an afterthought. With the _Pakhan_ ’s death things may change or they may not change at all. The new boss is the same that brokered the alliance after all. Yuuri’s father sends his condolences and does not think to ask Yuuri for his.

Yuuri skates because it’s the only thing that gives him a sense of stability.

Viktor has sent a response to his father’s message. Yuuri had not been summoned to receive it. Nothing will change, his father announced later. The alliance with the Russians will continue.

But Yuuri knows that’s wrong.

Things will change. They already have. He’s simply the only one affected.

He knew this was coming. Viktor would step into the _Pakhan’s_ role eventually. He had just thought it would happen later. Foolishly, he had hoped he’d have more time.

He’s not surprised when the invitations stop coming.

And he’s not surprised, not really when it hurts so much more than he’d expected.

~*~

He’s had freedom as Yakov’s heir. Restricted to the rules of the _Bratva_ but free to go where he wanted. Because Yakov was not his real father, but he loved Viktor like his own son. And Viktor had repaid him with the only thing he knew and understood then – power. He had expanded Yakov’s empire, brokered new alliances and he had done it well.

But they are few, a sworn brotherhood and there are so few of them that can be trusted. Viktor knows this, has known this for a long time. He’s established too many uneasy truces, too many strained alliances for it too last. He was never meant to carry the burden alone, but he’d had to realize that there was no one there who could match him.

It would be so easy to let it all topple like a house of cards. Except.

Yakov was not his real father but he had taken Viktor in at a young age. He’s raised and taught Viktor most of what he knows and for that Viktor is _grateful_.

He owes Yakov at least this, that he tries and protects what he’s built, what _Yakov_ has built. It's his duty and he no longer has the time or strength to fight for someone who doesn't want him. So he turns his eyes eastwards one last time and thinks _sorry_ and _goodbye, my love_.

He does not look eastwards again.

~*~

The worst part is, nothing _did_ change. Not really. Yuuri’s life is still the same. He skates and lives a quiet life and when he gets summoned he goes and dirties his hand so that someone else doesn’t have to. Except, he hasn’t seen Viktor for over a year, their longest time apart since they met. It’s been on his mind the whole time, the simple fact that he won’t see Viktor again and-

Yuuri stumbles and his knees hit the ice.

He’s come to the rink in Hasetsu often since the news of Yakov’s death hit. Here is the only place where he can feel close to Viktor. They’ve talked about it once, during one of their stolen moments.

 _What did you mean when you asked me to teach you how to skate?_ Viktor had asked, one hand treaded into Yuuri’s hair. Yuuri had wanted to disengage to introduce distance between them, because he knew it would be harder to walk away the closer he lets Viktor in. But he hadn’t, couldn’t, not when Viktor was looking at him like that.

So he had explained and Viktor had laughed, bright and sunny and said how he would love to see Yuuri skate one day.

He’s imagined him there since then, waiting at the boards for Yuuri to finish. Every step and spin and jump had been for him.

So Yuuri closes his eyes and skates, but it’s an illusion that he can’t keep from shattering.

There’s no one there to see, no one there to tell him of a new body that has been found, a message carved into the skin for Yuuri and only Yuuri to understand. There is no one there to see also, when Yuuri finally breaks down and cries for the first time in years.

The ice is cold and so is his body, but at least for this moment, he only feels the warmth of his tears.

~*~

Viktor is in his office reading through a contract when there is a knock on the door. It’s one of his men and Viktor knows it’s more work, it’s always more work. He’s so tired these days, exhaustion that runs deeper than physical, but there is no one else he can trust with these things. It’s always only him, alone against a world that means so little to him.

“There’s a body,” the man says. Fidgets.

Viktor stares and waits. There’s always a body, always someone dead because men are stupid and aggressive and there’s always someone who bites off more than he can chew. There is no reason why this one should be different from the last.

“It’s addressed to you,” the man says.

Viktor is out of his chair and out the door, before he can process enough to ask “where?”

Doubt piles up on the way, and when Viktor walks into the room – a Morgue that belongs to the _Bratva_ – he expects nothing at all. Expectation only leads to hurt.

But then he sees it, the man’s chest exposed with a two-headed snake carved into the skin and the breath leaves his chest. Viktor feels the world sway under his feet as hope blooms. But he knows this hope too well. He’s felt it every single time he had Yuuri in his arms. Kept it close, when he tried to convince Yuuri to give them, to give _him_ a chance, has kept it even closer when he’d eventually stopped asking, because Yuuri looked like leaving and even if it’s short, time with Yuuri was all he lived for.

Viktor only wants one thing, but he already knows he’ll never get it.

“Leave me,” he orders and his men obey.

He has no more surprises left to give, but they don’t know that yet. They still look up to him, still fear him. There is very little that Viktor has left to give and what he has already belongs to a man whom he will never see again.

Viktor draws a gloved finger along the intricate red lines. It could be an impostor, someone who simply wanted to draw the attention of _the_ Snake. But the details are intricate, precise – made by someone who must have observed the original to its finest facet. He wished he’d asked where they found him.

His hands are steady, but he feels shaken to the core. There is nothing in the man’s mouth, all teeth still in pace. It’s a detail easily missed. One does not need to check a corpse’s mouth when the cause of death is so obvious. He’d always thought of it as his little present for whoever was daring enough to look closer. Not everyone had.

There is nothing else on the body, no message carved into his thighs, nothing. Viktor stares at the man – a stranger – and feels the familiar crush of disappointment. It has no right to hurt this much after all this time.

He rests his hand on the man’s stomach, overwhelmed for a moment by the strength of his emotions. Despite his resolution, he’d never quite let go of the hope. He had needed it too much. To remind him that just because he couldn’t have it, there were still things worth living for in this world. It was this hope he had clung to when he’d lain awake and thought how easy it would be to end it. He wouldn’t even have to do it himself, he has enemies enough. It is a brittle hope, but it is all he has.

He does not know if he can walk away, if it finally dies.

There is something hard and angled under his hand. Something that does not belong into the abdomen of a dead man. Viktor knows how it feels when a man dies of internal bleeding. When his body cavity is filled up with so much blood that it feels like it’s filled with rocks. This feels different.

Viktor examines the skin and finds the lines at the edges of the snake to be thicker – deeper. He presses a finger into it and finds the skin gives way as though unattached. He pinches an edge between his fingers and lifts. It comes easily, the skin peeled off and then replaced with meticulous care.

Inside, nestled between strings of guts lies a CD case. It is dirty with blood and gore. Viktor’s hands shake when he lifts it out for inspection. He wipes off the gore with a thumb to reveal the DVD inside. On it, with black marker is written _Yuri on Ice_.

For the first time in years, the hope in Viktor’s chest doesn’t feel bitter.

He orders his men to dispose of the body and retreats to his home. His laptop has a CD drive and Viktor takes it with him to his bedroom. He’s scared of what he’ll find. But the hope is stronger, has always been stronger.

Viktor hits play.

~*~

Yuuri skates and Viktor feels _alive._

 


	2. Chapter 2

Viktor recognizes the routine, even though it’s been years since he has skated it last. When he was younger and less entrenched in his family’s business he’d dreamed of becoming a figure skater. He had taken lessons and even competed a few times in the junior division. He’d been a rising star then with many hopes riding on his back.

This routine had been the last he’d skated competitively, his first and final participation in the senior division. He had come in second and he’d thought, then, on the podium, that this was what his life was supposed to feel like - exhilarating, joyful, _happy_. Then Yakov had decided to make him his heir and he had stepped away from his hopes and dreams. There had been disappointment among his skating peers, he had been such a promising young talent, but eventually the world had forgotten him.

It’s been close to ten years and he still remembers this routine, remembers his thoughts and feelings when he choreographed it. It has never looked as beautiful as when Yuuri performs it.

Viktor jumps back to the beginning before the video has even ended.  The camera is static and doesn’t quite catch the entirety of the rink, but Viktor’s memory fills in the blanks. Yuuri is gorgeous. His footwork is excellent, mesmerizing even to Viktor who knows what it’s meant to convey. Yuuri lifts into a jump and Viktor’s heart jumps with him.

Yuuri comes to a stop, arms crossed over his neck, chest heaving and Viktor is stunned, breathless and filled with an emotion that threatens to swallow him. He remembers the song he’d picked for this one, remembers what emotions he had put into the routine, what he had wanted to convey. Remembers the longing he had felt then, the loneliness that suffuses both the song and the routine.

The video fades to black and Viktor touches the trackpad to restart it, but freezes when he sees the words that appear on the screen. _I’m sorry_.

It’s been a year since the last time he’s seen Yuuri. Three years since the last time he’s cried. Viktor reaches out and touches the words on the screen, hesitantly, as if they could startle and disappear.

There is nothing else after, just the two words that are then replaced by the player’s default page. In his head, the words of the song repeat, _stay close to me and never leave._

Viktor reaches for his phone to make a call.

~*~

It’s another hotel room, another door with a number on it and Yuuri thinks how familiar it is and yet, knocking on this particular door is the hardest thing he’s ever done. It’s not him that should be the one knocking. It’s not Viktor who should have set up this meeting as he had all the others. It’s not Viktor who should have flown out to meet Yuuri on his home ground.

But it’s too late for that now. Yuuri takes a deep breath and knocks.

It’s not Viktor that opens the door, but a stranger, a young blond with a cold expression in his eyes. There is a note of panic, thoughts tumbling, is this a trap?, wrong room? but then there is a familiar voice in Russian. The young man scowls but pulls the door open further and there is Viktor, sitting on a chaise lounge, impeccably dressed the way he never was before for their meetings.

The man still scowls at Yuuri, his shoulder length blond hair that obscures his face partially doing little to alleviate the near-anger written in every feature. He seems awfully young, more child than man, but Yuuri knows there is no real age restriction on crime.

He stops in the middle of the room, halted by the stranger’s presence and the closed-off expression on Viktor’s face.

The words he’s so tenuously prepared are stuck in his throat. He knew it would be hard, baring your soul always is, but Yuuri finds it impossible now, when the one thing he’s counted on - to be alone with Viktor - is missing.

~*~

Viktor had not planned on Yuri coming along, but now he is glad that his bodyguard followed him on this trip. Or at least, he was glad up until the moment Yuuri stepped through the door.

He wonders how he could have ever forgotten just what profound effect Yuuri has on him. But he hadn’t forgotten not really, He knew that Yuuri walking away one more time would destroy him, wreck him - proof of that is Yuri’s presence, whom he only tolerates because Viktor knows he can keep it together, if only there is a reason he has to. He knew this and yet when Yuuri stepped through the door it was still like a punch in the gut. He’s lovely, beautiful as he always has been and there is a part of Viktor that recognizes the feeling of peace that comes with Yuuri’s presence.

But there is distress evident on Yuuri’s face, his eyes dart from Yuri’s face to Viktor’s, linger there, stray and return. He’s wearing his glasses again, and even then Viktor can see the faint shimmer of wetness in his eyes.

“Yurio,” he says and Yuri scowls at him. And yet, even with his obvious ill-temper, Yuri still keeps his body poised and ready, keeps himself in a position that makes it easy to obscure Yuuri’s path, to intervene at a moment’s notice if required. He’s good at what he does, but Viktor knows he doesn’t need him today.

“Leave us,” he orders in English for Yuuri’s sake.

“No,” Yuri flat out says.

Viktor knows where Yuuri keeps his weapons, has seen him in action. He also knows how a fight between them would end.

Yuuri swallows. Viktor can feel the phantom touch of his pulse point under his fingers. This is dangerous, but least of all to Viktor’s life. “Please,” he says.

Yuuri’s eyes widen, but it’s Yuri who says, “you got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Language, Yurio,” Viktor chides, an ingrained reflex from the few months they’ve been working together. It does well to maintain a veneer of politeness when dealing with clients, but Yuri is a hopeless case.

Yuri stares at him for a long moment. Viktor returns his gaze evenly, even as he feels Yuuri’s like a physical caress on his skin.

“Don’t come crying to me, if he breaks your heart again,” Yuri says and scoffs. He shoulders Yuuri none too gently on his way to the door and Viktor can hear him hiss something that distinctly sounds like pig in English. He slams the door and Viktor exhales. Yuri is uncouth and can be a handful, but he’s good at what he does. He wouldn’t have left, if he’d thought Viktor was in real danger.

And even now, he’s probably right outside the door. It’s a comfort of sorts, to know that he’s not alone, even if Yuri is not partial to what’s in his heart.

Viktor leans back in his chair. He’s always been open with Yuuri, had worn his heart on his sleeve deliberately, had never made it a secret how much Yuuri means to him, but he finds it hard to do that right now. “Well?” he prompts.

~*~

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri says and it feels woefully inadequate. It should be easier now that they are alone, but all the words Yuuri had prepared are gone, leaving him with a sense of dread and fear, because what if he says the wrong thing? Worse, what if there is no longer a right thing he _can_ say?

Viktor raises an eyebrow. It’s so different still, from how he’s used to be and Yuuri wants to retreat, regroup and find a new approach, but he knows cowardice when he sees it, so he swallows his anxiety and stays.

“I should have given you a chance,” he says. He takes a step forward but halts when Viktor’s demeanor does not change. “I… was.” He swallows. Takes a moment to rearrange the words bouncing around in his mind. “I was wrong,” he says and puts firmness behind the words. “I should not have presumed to make a decision for you. You wanted us to try and I decided for both of us that we shouldn’t because-” Yuuri falters.

It’s hard and he wants to cry, but it must have been hard for Viktor too, all the years he fought for Yuuri to commit, fought for both of them because Yuuri wouldn’t fight at all. “Because I knew you would no longer want me, once you were the _Pakhan_ . No,” he shakes his head. “I never doubted that you want me. I just thought you wanted to be _Pahan_ more. I am a mere hitman. I can’t offer you anything other than that. Once you were _Pakhan_ , I would only drag you down. I didn’t realize…” Yuuri has to look away for a moment. “I didn’t realize how much you truly meant to me. I just… I know I still have nothing to offer you. And you’re the _Pakhan_ now…”

“I would have given it up,” Viktor says. His expression is still closed off, but his voice sounds softer now, almost gentle.

Yuuri squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. Breathing is an effort. “But you have a pla-” he starts but Viktor interrupts him.

“I have a place,” he says bitterly, “and so do you. I know you don’t like yours. Is it so hard to believe I dislike mine?”

Yuuri can only stare. Viktor’s face has lost the calmness, he looks pained now, sad. And angry too. Yuuri swallows past the lump in his throat. Viktor doesn’t say anything more and Yuuri feels off balance, like the ground under his feet has turned to ice and he has no blades to find his balance. It’s true what Viktor says. Yuuri, if given a choice, would have never gone down the path he is on. But he hasn’t been given a choice. As his father’s unwanted son it was either becoming useful or being dealt with. He’d been young, but that much had been made clear to him. It gives him a place and a purpose, but neither is one he wants. For the longest time he’d thought it was because of how tenuous it was. He’d wanted a place as more than just a tool. He had envied his brother, the clear path that lies in front of him and his father’s approval too. It was what Viktor had, but the truth is, he’d always wanted Viktor more than he wanted Viktor’s place.

He wonders suddenly, if Viktor had a choice in this, if his brother had. He knows Ryuichi likes the power it affords him, likes being the heir. But that does not mean it’s the right thing for Yuuri - or for Viktor.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. He feels drained, defeated. He had gotten it all wrong and never tried to consider the other side. He had simply assumed that Viktor wanted to be the heir. That Viktor wanted being _Pakhan_ more than he wanted Yuuri. He wouldn’t have faulted him for it, but that was precisely the problem. Viktor’s choice should have been more important to him than what he thought was the right course of action.

Yuuri can’t read Viktor’s face or his reaction. Can’t say if he’s forgiven or condemned. He should go. He doesn’t want to, but what else is there to say? But he can’t just leave, not like this, not until he’s told Viktor what he feels, even if he gets rejected. “I can go, if you want me to. But-”

He doesn’t get to finish before Viktor is up and in his space, face an angry mask that is scary simply for the fact that it’s never been directed at Yuuri before..

~*~

“You don’t get to do this,” Viktor snaps and it feels good in a way he hadn’t expected. He’s been carrying this anger for a long time, had never responded to it, but now that he finally does, it feels like pressure lifting.

Yuuri’s eyes are wide but he hasn’t backed down a step, even if his torso is leaning away from Viktor’s invasion of personal space.

“You don’t get to walk away from me again. Not like this. You don’t get to be the one to make that decision every damn time. Not when I-” Viktor swallows, struggles with his emotions, but forges onwards anyway. “Not when I fucking love you so much it _hurts_.”

Yuuri blinks. His eyes are the perfect shade of brown, warm and beautiful. “That’s what I was going to say,” Yuuri says weakly. They are so close, Viktor can see the frantic flicker of his pulse. “I can go, but I don’t want to.” He reaches up a hand hesitantly and part of Viktor’s anger melts when Yuuri touches his cheek tentatively. It’s not fair that he has this effect. He deserves Viktor’s anger, deserves having to fight for once, but he also deserves every bit of love Viktor has to offer him and it still would not be enough.

“I don’t want to leave you ever again,” Yuuri says breathlessly. His fingers are warm on Viktor’s cheek. “I love you,” Yuuri says and Viktor is lost, always has been, only this time it’s finally okay.

Viktor grabs Yuuri by the neck and pulls him into a rough kiss. He loves Yuuri with all he has, but he is still angry and his heart is beating rapidly in his chest and he can feel the blood pump through his veins, urging him on and on and on. They back against the wall and the impact rattles them both. Yuuri opens up under him and he’s pliant for this moment only, because in the next, he bites Viktor’s lip and _growls_ and it’s perfect.

Yuuri’s hand is long gone from Viktor’s face. It’s curled in his hair now, tight and urging and Viktor eagerly responds. He shoves a knee up between Yuuri’s legs, finds the insistent hardness there and now it’s him that’s growling. Yurri gasps.

Viktor slides the hand he still has on Yuuri’s neck to his throat. He can feel Yuuri’s heartbeat, the fragility of his life right there under his palm.

Viktor has always known who would win in a fight between them. There is no iteration of this where he could be capable of killing Yuuri. But it’s still heady, to have this proof right there, the proof that Yuuri is alive and fighting and that he’s handed his trust so willingly to Viktor to allow this.

Yuuri shifts, presses forward so that Viktor’s hold on his throat becomes more than just a grasp. He finds Yuuri’s eyes burning with the same fire that courses through his veins. Viktor leans forward again for a kiss, but Yuuri’s faster, meeting him in what’s more a bite than a kiss.

Viktor grips tighter and Yuuri’s mouth falls open on a moan. He takes the invitation eagerly. Yuuri moans again and shifts, rubbing his erection against Viktor’s thigh. Viktor smirks, lets Yuuri feel the smirk skin on skin and gets rewarded by a painful tug on his hair. Viktor slides his free hand down Yuuri’s body.

“Viktor,” Yuuri breathes and it seems juxtaposed in its gentleness, but then he drags his teeth along Viktor’s jaw.

“Tell me what you want,” Viktor orders even as he is teasing the bulge in Yuuri’s pants.

“Don’t you want to punish me?” Yuuri murmurs and it’s so god damn unfair that he does it while also nuzzling into Viktor’s neck. “I’ve been such a bad boy.” He shifts, pressing forward into Viktor’s hand and before Viktor can respond, Yuuri nips the skin at his neck.

This would be pathetic if it wouldn’t feel so fucking good.

“Oh I think I should punish you,” Viktor purrs. He finally slips his hand away from Yuuri’s neck to slip it under his shirt to tease a nipple.

Yuuri’s breath shudders and for a moment Viktor thinks he has the upper hand, but then Yuuri suddenly moves and then he’s the one pressed against the wall face first with Yuuri’s cock pressing into his ass. Yuuri has his hands trapped against the wall, his whole weight leaning into Viktor and it’s fucking awesome.

“We could do that,” Yuuri murmurs into his ear, sending goosebumps down Viktor’s spine. “Or…” he drags it out, his hot breath folding over Viktor’s sensitized skin. “I could bend you over like the little bitch you are and fuck you instead.”

Viktor makes an involuntary sound that’s awfully close to a whimper, but he couldn’t have cared less. Yuuri’s always been receptive and he’d been rarely shy when they were intimate. But this. Is new. Viktor hadn’t known just how much of a sucker for dirty talk he is until Yuuri wrecked him with a few choice words.

He’d bend over in a heartbeat, if it kept Yuuri talking. Fuck, he’d crawl on his knees and beg, if it gives him more of that incredible Eros that Yuuri is oozing that moment.

“Hmm?” Yuuri prompts.

Viktor had known this man for three years, but he’d had no idea that Yuuri was capable of this. Viktor’s anger has long since evaporated and he’s so desperately horny he’s downright grateful for the wall he can press his cock against. But it’s not enough and he wants Yuuri to make true on his words, the sooner the better but that requires coherence and focus and he thoroughly lacks both at the moment. He does the only thing that he can, he rocks back against Yuuri and lets out a filthy, wanton moan.

“I take that as a yes,” Yuuri murmurs and Viktor could cry with relief. He’s done this so many times before, brought Yuuri to the brink, driven him mad with teasing and still demanded he give him verbal responses, because he knew how difficult it was for Yuuri. It’s almost karmic, when he realizes he’s lost that game before it even started.

Yuuri moves closer, using his whole body to keep Viktor trapped. Viktor settles to have his hands against the wall, but then Yuuri grabs them and pulls them down. A moment later they are tied with silk behind Viktor’s back.

Viktor thinks there is a significant chance his balls might explode. He doesn’t remember ever being this hard in his life.

Yuuri grabs him by the shoulders and maneuvers him away from the wall and to the couch where he, true to his words, bends Viktor over the armrest, face pressed into the cushions.   
There’s some rustling out of Viktor’s sight, the heavy thud when guns drop to the floor and then Yuuri is in front of him, wearing only his pants and Viktor licks his lip at the sight.

“Say _Borov_ , and I stop.” Yuuri whispers in his ear, sliding a hand through Viktor’s sweaty hair in a gesture that is achingly gentle. Viktor shudders but nods. His breathing is coming ragged and he’s so hard it’s painful and he hasn’t even lost his clothes yet.

Yuuri moves to walk away, but Viktor stops him. “Will you stay?” he asks, craning his neck up so he can see Yuuri’s face, even with his ass bent over the couch.

Yuuri smiles and it’s so gentle and tender it makes Viktor’s heart ache. “Of course,” Yuuri says and this time when he cards his hand through Viktor’s hair it is shaking.

“ _Spasibo, lyubov' moya_ ,” Viktor whispers.

The moment hangs for a moment, fragile like a dew drop poised to fall, but then Viktor curls his lips into a smirk and he taunts, “do you have some bite behind all that bark?” and Yuuri’s hand drops from his hair only to return to backhand Viktor hard. It stings and for a moment he’s stunned, but then Yuuri’s in his face and hisses “who allowed you to talk, _shlyukha_?”

Viktor opens his mouth to blurt out his shock but then realizes the warning he just got and shuts it again. He’s hot and flushed and fuck him, he could have come from just that and it’d still be the best orgasm he ever had.

Yuuri for his part looks torn between mortification and stern displeasure. He fidgets once as if to reach for Viktor and no, this can’t do. His cheek still stings, but being bitch-slapped by Yuuri has to be one of the hottest things that’s ever been done to him and he will be damned if he lets Yuuri think he doesn’t appreciate it. Viktor slides his tongue out between his lips slowly, holding Yuuri’s eyes the whole time and licks his lips in the filthiest and most provocative way possible. Yuuri visibly swallows.

“Maybe,” Viktor suggests lowly, “you need something to shut me up.”

The trace of mortification disappears instantly and Yuuri’s face hardens. Viktor can feel his whole body tense in anticipation. He makes no attempt to hide just how affected he is, breath coming out fast, face flushed red and lips moist from where he’d licked them moments before.

Yuuri’s eyes trace from Viktor’s face to his back to where his hands are still tied up. Theoretically, he could easily escape his predicament. Silk ties are not particularly resilient and he can hold his own in a fight. They both know this, but what Viktor also knows and what he wants Yuuri to understand, is that this is exactly how he wants it.

And then Yuuri pulls out a knife. Viktor knows where Yuuri keeps his, has taken them off him countless times, has seen him use that very same knife on multiple occasions, has seen the beautiful artwork he’s left for Viktor to find. It’s a thing of beauty, how easily and effortlessly Yuuri handles the blade.

Yuuri flips it once, almost lazily and Viktor recognizes the test for what it is. He almost laughs. It’s too late for doubts, has always been too late. If Yuuri held the knife, Viktor would walk into it willingly.

Yuuri doesn’t do any of the many; wicked things Viktor has seen him do with a blade. What he does is ruin a perfectly good and very expensive suit by cutting it right off Viktor’s body until he’s naked. Thankfully, he doesn’t cut the straps on his holster, but uses the clasps to take them off along with the sheaths on his arm.

Viktor doesn’t see where the knife disappears to, but it doesn’t make a reappearance and Viktor thinks it’s a shame as much as it is a good thing, because Yuuri with a knife is a thing of beauty, but Yuuri has always put on a mask when he’s used it and Viktor, as much as he’s excited by Yuuri’s ruthless side, he wants to be fucked by the real thing.

Now his ass is up in the air and Yuuri’s out of sight and there’s a turn-on he’s not known he had, but today’s been a day for surprises so it’s only par for the course.

Madly, he thinks, how inappropriate it would be for Yuri to walk in this moment.

Viktor’s always prided himself on his good senses, but he’s surprised still when Yuuri suddenly touches his ass. His hands are warm and slick and he doesn’t waste much time playing before he inserts the first finger. Viktor hadn’t even heard him preparing and it’s heady to know how much he can be lost in his own head.

“What happened to making me shut up?” he grounds out. If antagonizing Yuuri is what it takes to bring forth Yuuri’s dominant side, Viktor’ll gladly do it. Ever since Yuuri slapped him, Viktor thinks he might want to be hit somewhere else too.

Yuuri punishes him in the worst way possible by ignoring him. And it’s something else entirely, because suddenly Yuuri is unbearably gentle when all Viktor wants is to be slapped around. He tries to urge Yuuri on, to give him even a taste of the roughness he craves, but there’s so little he _can_ do, when just Yuuri fingering him has him so close to unraveling.

“Yuuri,” he breathes against the cushions. “Please…”

Yuuri stops and then retreats. Viktor squeezes his eyes shut, trying to gain back some sanity.

A hand on his cheek pulls him out of it and Viktor blinks his eyes open. Yuuri is looking down at him. “Do you deserve a reward?” Yuuri asks. He sounds as though the whole thing doesn’t affect him at all and weren’t it for the telltale flush on his chest and neck, Viktor would have believed it. He flicks his eyes downward to where Yuuri’s cock strains against his slacks.

“I can be good,” he promises. “I can earn my reward.”

Yuuri makes a thoughtful noise. He rubs his thumb over Viktor’s lips, pulling the lower lip down. Viktor opens eagerly. “What reward do you want?” Yuuri asks. His thumb has stilled, pressed against Viktor’s lip still.

Viktor swallows. Yuuri’s eyes track the motion and the color rises higher in his cheeks. “I want you to spank me while you fuck me,” Viktor says.

Yuuri’s hand falls away and for a moment Viktor thinks he’s said the wrong thing, but then Yuuri drags that same hand over his face and groans and says, “Viktor” in a bit of a husky, breathless voice. His cock is, even through the slacks, obviously very, very hard and leaking.

“Please?” Viktor bats his eyelashes.

“God…” Yuuri murmurs. He drops the hand he’d used to cover his face to look at Viktor. “I don’t think I can… you’re too much.”

Viktor tries not to let his disappointment show. “Okay,” he says. “We can-”  
“No,” Yuuri says forcefully. “I mean. I want to. Just the thought is…” Yuuri takes a deep breath. “I can barely keep it together,” he whispers. His hands are clenching and unclenching and only now does Viktor see the tension riddling his frame. “All I want is to fuck you.” He swallows. “Hard.”

“Then do it,” Viktor says immediately. “We can play later. We can play whenever you want and whatever you and I want.” He looks up at Yuuri, trying to convey what he means with his eyes, because he wants Yuuri to know that he wants him, will always want him and hopes that they will have a long future together, but right now his primary objective is to get fucked so thoroughly he can’t walk for days.

Yuuri swallows again. Then his face breaks into a smile and he says, “Okay. Do you want to-?” He gestures to where Viktor is still tied up.

“No,” Viktor says. “Leave it. I like it. I like it very much.” He winks at Yuuri and wiggles his ass while he’s at it. “Now, don’t let me wait any longer. I want to get to the cuddly part.”

Yuuri snorts and has to hide his face for a moment. It’s odd how between all the moments they shared these are among the most precious. Yuuri completely unguarded, laughing openly about Viktor’s antics, even in the middle of what is supposed to be the best sex of Viktor’s life.

“You have to get me back into the mood,” Yuuri says accusingly once he’s calmed done. He’s evidently still hard, but Viktor can see how it’s a bit incongruous to go from snorting to fucking.

But that’s what Viktor’s here for. “When you slapped me,” he says, “the only reason I didn’t come in my pants instantly was because I was so surprised. That’s why I want you to spank me. You could do it right now too. Fuck me. I mean, do it- while you fuck me.” It’s hard to focus on his words when he can see the effect they have on Yuuri. The glazed-over look that returns to his eyes and how his body language changes from unguarded and open to tense and predatory. It reminds him of how Yuuri had been just moments ago and it makes focusing harder. “Fuck me and spank me.” He’s had more planned, goading Yuuri with details and just how much of a naughty boy he was that deserves a spanking.But Yuuri’s eyes have gone dark and he grabs Viktor’s jaw the next moment to pull him into a bruising kiss.

Oh, Viktor thinks and he’s completely forgotten that kissing is a thing but how could he. He could live off this and be happy, the way Yuuri’s grip is bruising on his jaw, the way he takes no care whatsoever to be gentle.

“Remember, _Borov_ ,” he orders and lets go of Viktor with a harsh gesture. That’s unexpected. Viktor hadn’t thought they would go back in like this, but he’s most definitely on board.

Yuuri kisses him some more and it’s everything Viktor never knew he wanted. And then Yuuri’s hand closes around his cock, harsh and on the rough side and Viktor’s mouth falls open on a breathless sigh. Yuuri licks inside easily, twists his hand a few time and Viktor almost forgets that this is merely foreplay, for how good it feels.

When Yuuri finally, finally enters him Viktor’s is a sweaty, breathless mess. He’s long lost control over the sounds that fall from his mouth, most of it is begging and that’s fine because every time he says please, Yuuri slaps his ass.

Viktor wants to draw this out, have it as long as he can, but it’s impossible to last. Yuuri slides a hand over Viktor’s reddened cheek and it’s odd how the tingle of it translates through all the other sensations. It’s an insistent reminder of what just happened, of what is happening and Viktor gives up on trying to fight his oncoming orgasm.

He comes with Yuuri’s name on his lips. There’s a moment of pure sensation, the high he rides and nothing else and when he comes down it all feels different and yet the same. Yuuri is still moving, his hands digging into Viktor’s hips and it’s almost too much, except it’s not. It never could be.

Viktor moans helplessly and then or maybe because of it, Yuuri’s rhythm stutters. He bends over Viktor’s back, noses at his neck and then Yuuri makes that sound he only ever makes when he orgasms. It’s a soft sound, almost hesitant and it’s such a juxtaposition to just how rough he’s been just moments before. Yuuri presses his face against Viktor’s neck and Viktor can feel the breath he expels, can feel that soft, gentle sound fold over his skin.

Yuuri collapses on top of him afterwards and Viktor lets out an involuntary grunt that he regrets instantly, because it has Yuuri scrambling up and apologizing.

“It’s all right,” Viktor says gently. “You are heavy. I like that you are heavy.”

Yuuri blushes and looks away. He’s adorable. Naked and sweaty with his hair a downright mess and it’s hard to believe this shy, embarrassed man just fucked him senseless.

Viktor wriggles his hands. “Untie me?”

“Of course,” Yuuri’s face is already red and he seems to have a hard time looking at Viktor so he looks down instead. Yuuri’s fingers falter as they pull on the silk tie. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

Viktor cranes his head to figure out where Yuuri’s looking at. Oh. he thinks and warmth flushes his face. His ass is cherry red and feels deliciously sore, but Viktor kind of has a hard time wrapping his head around that he just begged Yuuri to spank him.

The tie comes loose and Viktor sits up on his knees. It’s awkward and he can’t quite sit on his ass yet, but there’s a deeply satiated feeling in his gut and Viktor can’t help the smile.

He takes Yuuri’s hand and pulls him to sit next to him on the couch. There’s a large wet stain from Viktor’s come on the armrest, where he’d rubbed against for friction. There’s also lube leaking from his ass, but thankfully no come thanks to the condom Yuuri had used. He’ll have to compensate the hotel for the ruined furniture, but that’s really not a big deal.

Yuuri fiddles with a loose thread and Viktor struggles for a moment with what to say. This has been the best sex he’s ever had and he doesn’t regret a single thing, but he’s a bit shocked still at himself, now that the excitement has passed, that he’d so thoroughly enjoyed being hit.

“I liked it,” Yuuri says eventually. He’s stopped fiddling, but is still avoiding Viktor’s eyes. “I really did. Although I-” He blushes and ducks his head. “I’ve never done this before. I…” Finally he raises his head to face Viktor. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.” His eyes dart to Viktor’s backside and a look of guilt overcomes his features. “Too much,” he quietly adds.

“Yuuri,” Viktor says. He wonders if he’s supposed to feel shame somewhere. Begging to be spanked and all, but how could he be ashamed? It’s a bit odd having to readjust what he knows about himself, but honestly, Viktor thinks there is very little Katsuki Yuuri could do him that he wouldn’t like.

“I loved it.” He cradles Yuuri’s cheek in his palm, tracing the line of Yuuri’s cheekbone with his thumb. “You caught me off guard, but you made sure I had a way out at all time. And I did beg for it.” Yuuri blushes again and it’s adorable, even as Viktor can feel the heat on his own face. “Have you thought about this before? You seemed to know what you were doing.” More so than Viktor who wouldn’t even have thought of getting spanked before.

Yuuri’s face is still red, but now he’s smiling. “I did,” he confesses. “A lot actually. I wasn’t sure.” He looks up at Viktor through his lashes. At some point Viktor doesn’t remember, he’d lost his glasses. Viktor has the sudden urge to slick his hair back to see how it would look.

“I should have asked you beforehand. I’m sorry. It wasn’t okay to just spring it on you.”

Viktor huffs a laugh. “Well, you did surprise me.” He places a palm on his cheek where Yuuri had slapped him.

Yuuri grimaces. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he repeats.

“I liked it,” Viktor says.

Yuuri shakes his head. “That’s not the point. I mean it is, but I couldn’t have known that beforehand. I just acted on a whim and-” Yuuri seems unable to continue.

“And?” Viktor prompts.

“I really, really wanted to put you in your place.” Yuuri whispers, sounding vaguely horrified.

Viktor bursts out laughing and after a moment Yuuri joins in too, albeit a bit more hesitant. “You can put me in my place as many times as you want, _moye serdtse._ ”

Yuuri bites his lips. Viktor takes the invitation to press a kiss there, a gentle one this time. “I loved it when you spoke Russian,” he murmurs against Yuuri’s lips. “You can call me a whore any time if it’s in Russian. Or anything else really.”

Yuuri is silent for a moment. And then, “All right, _solnyshko”_

~*~

“They will come after us,” Yuuri says when they’re cuddled up in each other’s arms afterwards, Yuuri’s head on Viktor’s shoulder and feet tangled together. It’s not something he wants to think about, but the thought won’t leave him alone. “I mean, if we…” He can’t even say it. They’ve decided to stay together, or at least he thinks they have. Suddenly, Yuuri’s scared he imagined it.

Viktor hums and turns his head  to nuzzle into Yuuri’s hair. “Let them,” he murmurs, “We’ll deal with them.”  
Yuuri’s heart soars and he has to close his eyes for a moment. “You’re serious?” he asks all the same.

“About what?”

“Staying. With me?”

Viktor pauses for a moment. He has his arm curved around Yuuri’s head, face pressed into his hair. “It’s all I ever wanted,” he confesses after a moment. “You never let me say it properly, but you. Are the best thing that ever happened to me. You are the only one that I want.”

Yuuri lets the words swirl through his mind for a moment. Lets them settle and find their place. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“For what?” Viktor pulls back slightly to look at him.

“For never letting you say it.”

“You can make it up to me.”

“How?”

“You can stay with me forever.” There’s a vulnerability in Viktor's face that Yuuri has never noticed before.

“I’d like that a lot,” Yuuri says quietly.

Something’s going on with Viktor’s eyes and it takes Yuuri a moment to realize he’s welling up. Viktor drops his head forward to rest agains’t Yuuri’s forehead. “I always hoped you’d say that,” Viktor murmurs. “I’m so happy.”  
“Then why are you crying?”

Viktor huffs and presses his face closer, leaving wet trails on Yuuri’s skin. Yuuri doesn’t know what to say, how to encompass the immensity of the emotions he’s feeling into words, so he wraps his arms around Viktor and holds him.

“We don’t have to leave,” Viktor says after a while. He’s calmed down but seems to be rather comfortable where he is.

Yuuri untangles his arms and pulls back to look at Viktor’s face. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, we don’t have to run away. I would. I will, if you want to.” Viktor smiles and it’s such a beautiful thing it makes Yuuri feel light and unburdened. “But we shouldn’t rush it. We can figure things out first.”

“What things?”

“Where to go for starters. I don’t really mind as long as I am with you.”

Yuuri feels the familiar urge to hide from the intensity in Viktor’s eyes, but he doesn’t. “Me too,” he says and Viktor beams at him and pulls him into a kiss that Yuuri willingly returns.

“I want to be prepared,” Viktor says a while later. “As best as we can. There’s no reason why we shouldn’t be together so we don’t have to be rash about anything.”

“I’m in Japan though,” Yuuri points out. “And you’re in Russia.”

“I’ll figure something out. Maybe I could lease you from your father. You could stay with me as my right hand man or something.”

“I’m not a car,” Yuuri says and he does little to hide the amusement. He likes the idea. He likes it very much.

“You certainly gave me the ride of my life,” Viktor jokes and then laughs at Yuuri’s face. Yuuri swats him playfully on the shoulder, but he is laughing too and really, he’d never thought he’d have this and now that he has, he knows he’ll fight to keep it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Borov - boar  
> Spasibo, lyubov' moya - Thank you, my love  
> Shlyukha - whore  
> moye serdtse - my heart  
> Solnyshko - small sun
> 
> What will live have in store for these two idiots next? Where did Yuuri learn to speak Russian? Will I ever write a sex scene for these two that doesn't involve choking?  
> That and more on the next episode of "I have no idea what I am doing, why does everything I write always get out of hand?"  
> Or, yes this series will definitely be continued, I even know how, I just don't know when I will get around to writing it.  
> Until then, thank you all for your lovely support!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going back to work tomorrow, so this is gonna be the last of the quick updates. Don't know when I'll have time to write the next part, but it's definitely coming. Thanks so far for your amazing support.


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